I fail

I fail

I fail again

In selfishness I cannot win

Today I was upset. Not really. Today I was angry. Angry at time and the weather and friends and family and inanimate objects and the way things are and have been and how they will probably turn out to be. I wanted so badly to take my little world in my hands and break it to dust. So that I could mix it up again like recycled pottery and shape what I wanted. But its not just me. Who else, what else, would I have to break to make my image. Maybe God really is the most selfish, self centered, bastard out there. He made it all. Which is beautiful and I love creation, despite my temporary feelings. But this new revelation today leads to one conclusion. In order for God to be the great maker, he must have been the great breaker. What did he get fed up and just decided to smash it all?

Was it his household clutter? Belonging to family. So that you can’t just bag it up and toss it on the curb where it belongs. Fridge full. Garage full. Closets full. Pantry full. Every drawer full. Every surface covered. I do not fit here. Not that I am not loved, but that I do not physically fit here. I am pushed out by items. Items that carry a soul in fact. They were chosen, given, bought, brought, stored, kept, and somehow that all leaves a print. Upon the mind and spirit of the one who, for whatever reason, decided that the space in the middle of the front room needs a poorly constructed circular cushioned chair. Which obstructs half of the couch seats and the view of the television.

Was it the cold? Winter is so often welcome to me. But in a window shopper’s sort of way. To go and do anything requires layers and hats. Even to rise from bed demands wool socks, pants, and long shirt with sweater. Because for some reason the thermostat is set to what? Off. Off. It is January and the the heater is set to off. To save money. And because your brother likes to sleep cold. As do I, but there are limits. What am I paying rent for? I feel like an intruder in my childhood home. Why? Because I left home and learned that there are better ways of living. And for me to come home now and suggest change is really to say ‘You are fools. I know better. You are wrong. And lazy. And wasteful. And why do you choose to live like this? Do you not realize you don’t have to live in such conditions. Please choose better for yourself.’

Was it friends? Who waste your time and effort and emotional energy. Who agree to meet and with purpose, only to be superseded by something more important than you. Your precious day off, planned and organized around an event now not to come. And you try, scramble for purpose in the day. And ah ha! A savior. Another familiar face will be here within the hour! But an hour passes. and another. and you might as well cancel. You spent the day waiting for nothing.

And all these gifts given and things done and deeds and wishes spent on others. And you do it all in good faith. To show genuine appreciate. Because giving is one of the great blessings. But like God, you are not Jesus. And some of what you give you expect in return. A very least a thank you. And not the reactionary, item received, thanks. But a real thank you.

Was it the birthday gift come in the mail? The disappointment. The weighing of desire to simply mock the gifter of just suffer for the sake of kindness. A thing for me to use, ordered from overseas, made with the worst quality materials, and does not even fulfil the purpose it is marketed for. And you knew. Do not ask for anything. For anything purchased on your behalf will be worse than nothing. You wonder when they will learn. That cheapness is a disease. That it is better to do without than to have something of no quality. That it is more money wasted than ever saved. Can you really look your mother in the face and say ‘Why do you choose be poor’. When will you realize that you can choose to live as you deserve. Because I have realized that I cannot do it for you. Did he think he could save? Did he really think he could come home and make things better. Only to realize that you really cannot change people. And the things you would do for them would be wasted on them. That in the end you really have to live for yourself. Even if that feels like you’re leaving them behind.

It hit me today, unfairly and in anger of course, that I cannot recall the last time someone has done something for me. Then I thought of the gift I was trying to find a use for other than to pile with the other garbage. And I remembered that even when something does come my way its always more effort on my part to make it work than it does to just fit. To just be welcome. To be wanted and appreciated. So better I get nothing. So I amend my statement. When is the last time I appreciated someone doing something for me?

The root of it.

So break me alone

and whatever strings remain

cut them